


Extraction

by elfin



Series: Extraction [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfin/pseuds/elfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Tony Stark had been sent to bring in Bruce Banner at the start of Avengers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extraction

He isn't what Tony has been expecting.

He’s read Banner’s work, made use of some of his theories. He's seen photos. He's watched footage of a huge green hulk tearing Harlem apart trying to save the city from yet another mistake made by that moron Ross. He's actually jerked off to it. But the man himself is a surprise. From the shadows, Tony watches him lean against a wooden post as the little girl they put up to drawing him out of the city climbs out of a back window. He knows he’s been tricked, the realisation taking height from him as he folds in on himself, weary. "Should have got paid up front, Banner," he murmurs to himself, and Tony speaks without thinking.

"You didn't follow her for the money."

The doc starts, dropping the medical kit he's carrying, backing up as Tony walks slowly to the wooden table in the middle of the room and leans on it. He doesn't look like he's hiding a huge, deadly alter ego under his crumpled, ill fitting suit. He tangles his fingers together not nervous but anxious, he’s slightly hunched over, not scared but tense, as if even in this hellhole Tony is the worst thing he can imagine. 

"Uncle Sam's getting smarter," he observes, stepping back as Tony moves forward, "bringing me to edge of the city makes extraction easier."

Tony looks around at the hut they're in. This is the kind of place where Banner's comfortable, he realises, maybe where he's taught himself to be happy. "Yeah," he agrees, "but not in the way you're thinking of."

"Are you here to kill me?" and there's something in his tone that shouldn't be there; a hint of irony, a smudge of sarcasm. 

Tony tilts his head. "Is that even possible?" He's off script, but Banner's appearance and manner has thrown him off balance. He expected power, anger, not this quiet strength.

He shakes his head, "No." And it’s a sad sound, a heart wrenching word.

"You're living out here because the alternative is servitude."

"I'm living out here, helping people, because the alternative is pain. Who the hell are you?"

Tony rolls his eyes. "Where are my manners?" He sticks his hand out. "Tony Stark." The flash of recognition in the dark eyes is a good start. "You've heard of me."

There’s a moment of respect in the good doctor's face but he covers it with a wry smile. "I'd bet there isn’t anyone in the world who hasn't."

"You're not exactly in the world out here."

"I haven't always been out here. What do you want?"

“I’m here to take you in.”

"Just you?"

Tony laughs. "Well, there are forty armed men surrounding the place. If I scream like a girl they'll come in shooting and the moment you hulk out they'll run away. So, I guess you could say it's just me."

He sighs, looks away. Tony watches him, can’t take his eyes off him and it isn’t for the reasons he’s been warned about. For all Fury and Romanoff waxed lyrical about not upsetting Banner, not getting too physically close, not spooking him, neither of them thought to mention that the guy’s rare smiles feel like the sun in a clear sky and look more tempting than a private party at Hooters. 

There’s something indefinable drawing Tony to him like the proverbial moth to the equally proverbial flame. The guy’s a genius, someone whose work has allowed Tony to complete some of his own. He doesn’t belong out here, as much as he must be helping people. He’s a scientist; he belongs behind a lab bench, not on one.

"Why now?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry.” Tony knows he really needs to concentrate on the job in hand and stop staring at the hints of grey in jet black hair he wants to run his fingers through right now. “You're kind of distracting, do you know that?” Given the expression on his face, he really doesn’t know what Tony’s talking about. “So, there's a big blue glowy cube that could blow up the earth, some bad guy from another planet has stolen it and it gives off gamma radiation that SHIELD thinks you'll be able to track."

Now Banner's looking at him with something other than suspicion; wry amusement and damn if that isn't a good look on him. 

“You’re serious.”

He’s moved to the other end of the narrow table with Tony watching his every move. “I know it sounds like a crock of shit, but honestly –“

Banner’s hands hit the table hard, cracking the wood, his eyes flaring green as he shouts, “You brought them right to me!”

In the same moment, Tony surges up, palms flat on the uneven surface, angling his head and scoring a direct kiss on Banner’s mouth.

The doc pulls back, eyes wide, and Tony almost laughs but doesn’t. “What?”

“What? What the hell...?”

“Did I misread that? You weren’t coming onto me? I thought you were coming onto me.” He pauses, locks eyes with Banner’s, back to the colour of melting chocolate. “Or were you trying to scare me? You think I’m frightened of you?”

“You should be.”

“Why? Because you might get angry and hulk out? I’m not here to hurt you and I’m not scared of either of you. And for your information, I didn’t bring them to you, they told me where to find you. Fury’s been tracking you since the incident in New York, keeping the bad guys off your tail. I’m only here now because they need you and no one else would come.”

They’re both still leaning on the table, facing one another, deep breaths coming slow, and every moment that passes feels like a challenge. Tony straightens, steps out and around, stopping inches from Banner’s side as he turns his head and the expression on his face is one of surprise, of being off guard, of losing control of a situation he thought he had in hand.

“When was the last time anyone touched you? And I mean, gently, with good intentions?”

“What?” 

“Your file didn’t mention hearing problems.” 

“Why are you talking to me like this?”

“As opposed to....?”

“You don’t know me.”

“No, not strictly. But I’m thinking I want to. And you know me, right? You know who I am? Not some completely random stranger trying to get in your pants.” Judging by the shock, Tony guesses it’s been a while since anyone has said that to him, if anyone ever has. He stares at Tony, who stares right back and tries not to let his gaze drop to Banner’s mouth too often. “Just to clarify, prevent any misunderstandings, I am trying to get in your pants. Right now. Before one or both of us gets caught up in a potential global catastrophe.”

Banner laughs. It sounds real, solid, and rusty like he hasn’t made the sound in a very long time. “No,” he coughs when he can manage to speak. 

“To me or the blue cube crisis?”

“Both.”

“Come on, Doctor Banner – Bruce, can I call you Bruce?” He closes up and the good doc doesn’t back away. That’s encouraging. “You’re the most delicious thing I’ve laid eyes on since leaving New York.” He risks flattening a hand over the left lapel of Bruce’s crumpled linen jacket. 

His mouth opens and closes. He glances down at Tony’s hand and back up, incredulous expression almost comical. “You want me?” It’s half disbelief, half joking. 

“Sorry, am I being subtle?” He drops his hand to the crotch of thin, worn linen pants, keeping his own slightly anxious intake of breath well disguised. This is one hell of a risk even if he isn’t worried about the big green rage machine making an appearance.

“Jesus....” It sounds like Bruce is finally realising he’s serious.

“I’ve read your work,” he murmurs, angling his head, leaning in to brush his month again against Bruce’s lips, “I love your work.”

“We met a minute ago!”

“And there’s an army outside getting antsy, so I apologise for the lack of roses, dinner and foreplay – can I take a rain check on those? – because we need to skip to the main event if we’re doing this....”

It’s like he’s flicked a switch. Suddenly Bruce’s mouth is on his, tongue forcing its way between his lips and Tony groans what should have been, ‘God, yes!’ but it comes out as nothing so clear. A large hand cups him through denim and he takes that as tacit permission to get Bruce’s fly undone. 

“Let me know,” he mutters, “if the green guy threatens to show,” and it’s his first hint that he’s even considered Banner’s deadly alter ego. 

“Unlikely,” Bruce breathes into his mouth, diving back for a kiss that’s incredibly, devastatingly obscene.

“Just thought he might want some of –“ it’s as far as he gets before Bruce grips his arms and turns him so that his backside is pressed against the edge of the uneven table and when the hell did the guy get his jeans open because he can feel hot skin gripping his cock. It’s all he can do to hang onto Bruce, to jerk him off to the same fast rhythm the guy’s setting, leaning his head back and moaning with embarrassing volume when that shockingly clever mouth clamps onto the sensitive flesh between his throat and collarbone. 

Tony gets his free hand tangled in Bruce’s hair, marvelling in the way it feels through his fingers, using it to pull his mouth back up into another bruising kiss.

It’s not going to take long, this insane thing he’s doing with a guy he met two minutes ago and he isn’t certain but it might be some personal record he’s setting. Bruce’s hand, Bruce’s mouth, the spicy scent and taste of him is surrounding Tony and he’s starting to feel like he could happily drown in it. He slides his hand down to curl around Bruce’s neck, fingers dipping into the collar of his shirt, settling on flushed skin, moaning a name that’s tantalisingly unfamiliar, one that he’s searing into his memory.

Bruce’s grip suddenly tightens on him, bordering on pain just for a moment before he feels warm cum hit the back of his own hand, Bruce tensing against him before he comes apart, head dropping to Tony’s shoulder, shaking like there’s an earthquake under his feet. It kicks Tony over the edge behind him, arm reaching around Bruce’s hunched shoulders, hanging on, clutching him close.

“Bruce... Jesus....” He turns his face into the man’s neck and presses parted lips to his throat, waiting for his breathing to slow. He can feel Bruce pulling one hand up to his face, thinks he might be wiping away tears and yeah, he kinda gets that. 

Gently he eases back, his ass letting him now he’s paying the slightest bit of attention that the table edge isn’t the most comfortable of things to be pressed against and he shifts his weight, dropping his arm from Bruce’s shoulders, letting him pull back too but keeping contact with his arm. He wipes his hand on his $500 jeans and taking Bruce’s wrist, urges him to do the same, waiting for him to look up, waiting for their eyes to finally meet.

There’s a half-smile on Bruce’s face and the uncertainty he can see there, the weariness and this place... Tony is aching to get him out of here now; to take him home, feed him, tuck him between Egyptian cotton sheets and watch him sleep even though he knows there isn’t time.

“Don’t think for a second that I came here with that in mind,” he murmurs with a smile, fingers back in Bruce’s hair, stroking through in what he hopes is a reassuring, intimate manner. Bruce hasn’t stepped away even if eye contact is somewhat sporadic. 

“Believe me, it never occurred to me.” And Tony believes him. 

“Well, that’s tragic. Come back with me. Help us out, don’t help us out, I honest to God don’t care. But come back with me so we can do that again in a huge comfy bed.” He can sense the rising protest. “You don’t belong here. I know you’re doing great helping these people but you belong somewhere you can make a massive difference, globally. And I am not talking about you as a lab rat. I’m asking you to come work with me, at my side. I swear, Doctor Banner, that together we could change the world.” He makes his case as seriously as he can, stroking one linen-covered arm, fingers restless in his hair. Bruce’s hands are resting loosely on his hips, all of his previous confidence evaporated with his orgasm. “You’re a bona fide genius. And I need you.”

Bruce shudders, breath huffing out of him across Tony’s throat and it makes him shiver. He’s half-hard again, thrown by his body’s reaction to this unassuming man, thinking he might be willing – for the first time in his life – to beg.

“Okay.” Bruce nods once, sharp and hesitant but a decision’s been made. “I’ll help save the world. Then you and I... we can talk.”

It’s not perfect but it’s better than nothing. And he should care about the alien threat because he needs there to be an earth left to fuck Bruce on.

“Great.” Easing his hands between them, he tucks Bruce’s dick back into his pants and zips him up, getting in a sneaky kiss to his neck as he does the same for himself. “Don’t worry, Doc, no one’s going to lay a fingers on you but me. Got that?”

Bruce stands up straight, looks at Tony with his head bowed slightly and nods. “Thank you.” He still sounds bemused and Tony can’t quite blame him for that. He’s completely stunned himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [Published Fiction](http://www.madeleine-marsh.com/)


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